


Reckless

by imperialimpala



Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I Love You, Lots of Touching, Touching, camille and fisher each get like a line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperialimpala/pseuds/imperialimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cameron had been shot and it was not his fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reckless

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after 1x10.

Cameron had been shot and it was not his fault. (It was more of a graze anyway, but it was still definitely not his fault.)

He winced as he pulled his now torn gray & blue flannel up and over his arms, forgoing the scrub top the hospital had provided to replace his ruined t-shirt on the basis that pulling it over his head seemed like way too much work. Though, sadly there would be no salvaging this shirt either, not with the tear in the side and the blood stain that accompanied it. 

Kirsten,weary and quiet, was eyeing him from the seat they'd provided for her in their tiny curtained off section of the ER. She'd refused to leave him alone and from the look she was giving him, Cameron suspected that she definitely thought this was his fault. 

His right side was vaguely numb for the moment, small blessings. The lifeless feeling extended to almost his entire arm and made buttoning his shirt more than a little frustrating. Sometime around his third attempt at the second button, Kirsten appeared in front of him. From her position between his legs, which were dangling over the edge of his hospital bed, she gently pulled the fabric from between his useless fingers with cleans hands and began to button up his shirt for him. 

The warm feeling of her fingers so near his chest was hard to ignore. He was positive his heart was skipping a few beats too fast, but it was an unreliable muscle at the best of times and it wasn't like his heart was privy to information that his brain didn't already know. 

The only thing Cameron wasn't sure about at the moment was why she was so mad at him. 

She was so close to him now that he could smell the last bit of the light floral scented perfume that still clung to her sweater. He didn't really want to think about how his blood was staining that to.

“Kirsten,” he started slowly, pausing when her red rimmed but piercing brown eyes met his own. “I-”

The sound of a throat clearing would've made a typical person step back, but Kirsten just stayed where she was and finished buttoning the last button of his shirt. 

“Well, if you two crazy kids are done here, I'll be out in the waiting room...ya know, waiting.” Camille said, poking her head in from behind the curtain, her eyes bright and knowing. Cameron was happy for the interruption. “I figured someone should give the hero of the night a ride home seeing as his convertible is officially part of a crime scene. And speaking of crime, I'm pretty sure Fisher's hangin' around out there to take your statements.”

Cameron swallowed, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. Images were burning behind his eyes, a slide-show waiting for the second he closed them. 

“We'll be out in a second,” Kirsten replied, her voice hard yet not at all directed at Camille, her gaze never having left Cameron's face. The other woman seemed to sense that the energy in the room wasn't at all what she originally thought and she backed away accordingly, the blue curtain falling back into place. 

A moment later, Kirsten pulled away from him and he immediately missed her warmth. He barely had time to stand before she was gone. 

***

(A few hours earlier)

The gun went off and she knew that it definitely wasn't the first time she'd ever heard a gunshot, but for some reason this was so much louder. Cameron stumbled back slightly, his back bumping into her front. He was still standing in front of her, trying to protect her like usual even though she never asked for that. 

He wouldn't stop doing it either. The neuroscientist had been back at work for barely three months and she still couldn't get him to stop doing this. And each time he was apologetic, sorry...fine. So, he kept doing it. Kirsten correctly assumed this was because Cameron Goodkin is an idiot and he never once disagreed with her. 

“Cameron?!” Kirsten said, her voice high and panicked, basically a noise she couldn't stand. It brought back too many bad memories. 

“I'm fine, Stretch.” he replied and he sounded it, if a tad shaky. Though Kirsten couldn't see Cameron's face, the face of the guy who decided to mug them turned pale before he took off down the street with nothing but the $20 Cameron happened to have in his pocket. 

She let out a sigh of relief and stepped out from behind Cameron. As low tap of foot steps on wet pavement faded, she turned to him. 

His shirt. 

“Cameron-”

“That guy is really bad a mugging people.” he replied with a pained smile that quickly fell away. He took a few steps backward, stumbling until he bumped into his convertible and slid to the pavement. A dark line of liquid stood out starkly against the silvery blue of the car's paint job and Kirsten had to fight to tear her eyes away. 

She didn't think. 

A few long strides and she was kneeling in front of her partner, her hand falling over his own staining itself and pressing hard. With the other, Kirsten pulled her phone out and called Fisher. 

Cameron was breathing heavily. He let out a low hiss as she pressed her palm harder into his side. “You can just call 911, Kirsten.” he said weakly. “This isn't a Stitchers' case.” 

“He's number 3 on speed dial. It's faster.” A moment later, Fisher picked up and Kirsten didn't even let him say hello before she told him what happened. 

“Jesus. Stay where you are, paramedics will be there soon.” Fisher's reply was short and so par for the course that Kirsten didn't even check to make sure the line had disconnected before she dropped her phone to the ground. 

“Who's number 1?” Cameron asked, his voice filling the almost silence of the night around them. 

“What?!” Kirsten snapped, immediately aware of how uneven her own breathing was. 

“On speed dial. You said Fisher was number 3-”

“You're number 1 jackass!” 

Cameron smiled, “My mother will be glad to hear that.” The laugh he let escape turned into a groan. “I can't believe he shot me.”

“Yeah, well he did.” Kirsten's voice was much calmer than she felt, which in and of itself would've been strange if it was anyone but Cameron bleeding all over her. It'd been that way since....

Well, if she were being honest, it'd been that way since she met him. 

It was simple really, Cameron was a huge part of her life, part of her. And, once again, she was terrified. She couldn't lose him, not again. 

“Cameron, stay with me ok? Help will be here soon.” 

He was pale, but smiling, “I'm not going anywhere, Sweet Pea. I promise.”

***

Cameron didn't know what time it was, but the sun was shining brightly through his closed blinds and he took that as a sign that maybe he should wake up. The obvious downside to this plan was the fact that his side, which had only just begun to throb before he took the pain meds they'd given him at the ER and gone to bed, was now on fire. The moment he twisted with the intention of sitting up he regretted it. The pain suddenly so intense that he had to swallow down the bile that had started to rise from his empty stomach.

The wound was mostly a superficial one, about 3 inches long and just below his rib cage, but it'd been deep enough to bleed more than he'd like to remember. The queasiness he was feeling was very reminiscent of the one and only time he'd ever given blood. He'd snuck into a drive when he was 17 and despite the fact that he was healthy and eligible, his parents had been furious. 

Eventually, he made his way into the shower and apparently washing only one side of his torso was more difficult than he'd originally anticipated. But somehow, he managed not to get his wound wet, which was a small miracle. 

He was in the middle of changing his bandage, sometime after a meal of a granola bar and orange juice, when someone began knocking on his door. Though, knocking was being generous, it was more like someone was trying to put their fist through the thin piece of wood that separated his apartment from the rest of the world. With slow movements, he grabbed a feather-gray hoodie and began zipping it up while he made his way towards the door, sucking in a breath through his teeth when the cotton met his side. 

“Alright, alright, hold your horses.” he muttered just before opening his door. 

“Why weren't you answering your phone?” Kirsten questioned, slipping into Cameron's apartment the moment the door was open wide enough. She made her way around the living room, her eyes searching for his phone and her ponytail bobbing along behind her. 

“Um, ok first off hi?” Cameron replied with a slight shake of his head, the action causing his glasses to slip down the bridge of his nose. “Secondly, it probably died and I was too distracted to care.” It'd been a long night of victim statements and sketch artists and Camille playfully complaining about playing chauffeur to break the tension. The last thing he'd been thinking about when he got home was his phone, “Wait, what time is it?”

Kirsten came over to him with her phone out. The lit screen showed the time down to the exact second. It was exactly 2:12:23 pm. “The only reason I wasn't here sooner was because Camille kept me on lock down until it was what she considered a reasonable hour.” 

“Were you worried about me Stretch?” Cameron said with a smile, suddenly feeling hopeful that her behavior at the hospital the night before had more to do with the situation than him directly.

Her brown eyes did a once over of his person, pausing briefly on his chest, before landing on his green ones, “Yes, I was worried. How are you feeling?” 

Cameron shrugged and then quickly winced, “Sore, but I'll live.” When she nodded but didn't say anything he added an awkward, “How are you?”

“Me? Oh I'm furious, livid, enraged...I'm pretty sure I spent more time than the average person would on thersaurus.com looking for the proper adjective, not that I would know. But honestly, I'm pretty sure pissed off covers it.” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and fury. 

“Ah, so you're still mad at me then.”

“Mad doesn't even come close to what I'm feeling.” 

Cameron nodded, running his fingers through his damp hair. He was trying to figure out what exactly he did wrong, but he really couldn't think of anything. Kirsten watched him silently. “Can I ask why?” 

“Because you got shot.” 

Now he was really confused, “Sorry, I'm not following. And for the record, I was only grazed.” 

Kirsten didn't even attempt to fight the eye roll he knew was coming, “You got yourself hurt again because you keep trying to protect me.” 

“So...you're mad because I didn't let you get shot?” he replied, hand raised slightly as he tried to work through his own thought process. 

“Yes!” Kirsten snapped. “We're supposed to be partners Cameron-” 

“And that means I'm supposed to let you get hurt?” His voice came out harsher than he meant it too, but at this point it was unavoidable. “I told you once that I couldn't risk you and that hasn't changed-”

“But you can risk yourself?! Is that it?” Her reply brought him up short and Cameron became aware of how important this conversation really was. Kirsten never told him what exactly she saw in his head that day, the day she'd stitched into him. The only thing she'd ever mentioned was that the license plate was no good, his brain pushed back too much...pulled her other places...it wasn't his fault.

“Yes Kirsten, if I need to.” he said while knowingly biting his tongue, choosing to let the 'to keep you safe' go unspoken.

“For months,” she started, her thick voice breaking through the momentary silence his words created, “Months, we worked together with you constantly asking for my trust. I don't need to feel the passage of time to know how important my trust is to you, but Cameron this isn't trustworthy...it's reckless.” 

“That isn't fair.” Cameron's reply came even as he tried to swallow passed the lump forming in his throat, “Not coming from you.” Kirsten shook her head, but apparently it was her turn to be shocked silent, “Excuse me, I have to take care of something.” And with that, Cameron ducked into his bedroom , sliding the door shut behind him. 

It wasn't long before he had himself under control enough to start peeling off the hoodie he'd put on what felt like an hour ago now, but happened to only have been a few minutes. He bit his bottom lip as he pulled the fleece away from his stitches, each fiber that stuck to the wound feeling like a needle against his skin until it fell away. Once he was bare from the waist up, he stood in front of his mirror and picked up the ointment they prescribed for him in the ER. 

When Kirsten decided to slide back his bedroom door and he mostly tried to ignore her, but when she noticed how difficult it was for Cameron to treat himself, she took pity on him. Her hands were gentle as she took the medication and began to dab it on. 

His hand settled somewhere around her hip.

“You're right.” she said and Cameron was startled enough to try and catch her eye in their shared reflection. “I'm reckless. It's the way I operate.” Her fingertips were light and cool against his skin, Cameron knew he must be blushing. 

“Remind me to write this down as the date Kirsten Clark admitted that I, Cameron Goodkin, was the right one in an argument.”

“The fact that you're right about me being reckless doesn't make my argument any less valid.” she capped the tube and picked up the bandage he'd laid out for himself earlier. “I jump into things and calculate all of the risks I'm taking as I go, because that's all I'm thinking about. It's easy for me, everything I'm doing or have done is happening and has always been happening. I sometimes forget that others don't think like that-”

“Kirsten-”

“But what's hard for me is the fact that I know that's not how your brain works. The moment you really jump into something, you aren't thinking about the dozens of ways something could go wrong all at once, because I know all you're thinking about is me.” 

Cameron sucked in a breath, tensing. He knew, of course he'd known. How could she possibly stitch into his brain and not see herself all over it?

With the bandage in place, her hands rested on his waist, her eyes lingering there. She seemed to need it, the contact, the physical reassurance that he really was there. 

“I'm sorry.” he said quietly, turning towards her. “I didn't want...” his voice trailed off. What didn't he want? Her? That was so far from the truth it was at the opposite end of the universe. 

“You were in a coma for 15 days and I didn't know if you were going to wake up. And somehow, after I'd stitched into you, I felt things...differently.” she took in a deep breath and he felt himself taking it with her. “At first...I thought maybe it was residual emotion? But it didn't go away and I knew it wasn't going too. I was upset, I didn't know how to leave you because...what if? I kept thinking about how you had to wake up. I kept thinking...what if you did and you didn't remember me?”

“Hey,” Cameron interrupted, his heart racing as he gently lifted her chin, “I could never forget you Kirsten.”

Kirsten smiled for a moment before her gaze turned serious, “I need you to know that I trust you.”

“Ok,” he replied, beaming. 

“But I can't risk you either. You're not expendable, not to me.” she paused, taking a breath, “You scared me, Cameron.” Her voice was shaky and Cameron found himself stepping closer to her, unsure of which time she was talking about yet understanding that it didn't matter, “It's not an emotion that I'm used to and I'm not a fan.” 

Cameron didn't miss the way she sighed as he cupped her cheek because apparently the feelings running around inside him were not at all one sided. Her hands were impossibly warm now as they fanned out across his stomach. He was bare to her and this time he had no intention of shutting the door,“I can't promise you I won't do anything like this again and I think you know that.” 

Her gaze turned defiant, “I can take care of myself-”

“And I know that, better than anyone. But that doesn't mean you should have to...at least not all the time.” 

“And I appreciate the gesture,” she was tracing the line of his scar now, his hand fell to her neck while the other toyed with the hem of her shirt, “But I don't need it.”

“Alright, how about next time I use you as a human shield?” when her hands stilled against him, Cameron knew that it'd been the wrong thing to say. 

She stepped away from him and he suddenly missed her in a way that he didn't totally understand, “I'm being serious. I need you to be safe.” 

“I know, I'm sorry.” he replied, taking another step towards her, “I don't know how-” he sighed, “I think you know that before I met you, I'd never been particularly brave. Not even close, but Kristen, you make me want to be. No, I feel like I need to be. You need someone to have your back while you're busying saving the rest of us.” Cameron smiled softly at her, “You're a superhero, Kirsten Clark.”

Time seemed to stretch as Kirsten stood before him, steely eyed and silent.

A moment later she came to him, her decision made, and when she pulled him closer he went willingly. She caught his lips with her own, kissing him gently, sweetly as if afraid he might break. Cameron wasted no time in wrapping his arms tightly around her, making any space between them almost non-existent. The pain in his side flared, bright and burning, but he ignored it choosing instead to deepen the kiss. And, as Kirsten's fingers threaded through his hair pulling lightly, he found himself letting out a groan for a reason that had nothing to do with his stitches. 

At the same time the feeling of her pressed against him, her mouth on his, was both totally new and yet instantly familiar. This kiss was the one he'd forever refer to as their first. This was Kirsten in his arms, not the shell of a dead man's emotions...except. 

Cameron pulled away, regretfully pressing his forehead against hers. She opened her eyes slowly and he couldn't help licking his lips as he stared into their depths. He'd been sure, he is sure...but still, “Are you sure?” The space between her brows furrowed and her lips pursed with a silent question, “About this? About us? That whatever it is that you feel for me isn't just some form of extreme residual emotion, an anomaly created by stitching into another living consciousness-”

“I love you.” The words were simple ones and Kirsten said them easily, as if she were merely stating a fact widely known to everyone except Cameron. His traitorous heart was beating so hard inside his chest that he held no doubt that she could feel it within her own. Speechless, Cameron could only stare, “Things didn't make sense before I'd stitched into you. The odd way I felt about you, the bits of my own memories I'd seen in other stitches, the stone glowing in the psychic's memory-” she paused when she saw his look of incomprehension. She cupped his face, thumb trailing across his cheek, “I didn't know what I felt for you because I didn't know what it felt like to love someone like that or how it felt to be loved at all. I'm sure Ed loved me, but I couldn't comprehend how that felt. I didn't know that you loved me, but once I felt it, it was like you always had and it helped me to understand that I feel the same way about you. So yes Cameron, I'm sure that I'm in love with you.” 

He kissed her then with everything he had. With his hand gripping the back of her neck and their lips moving in tandem, Cameron found himself wishing, needing to somehow make up for the lack of love in her life. She deserved more than he could ever possibly give her, but he planned to start by giving her all of himself. 

I love you, she'd said the words just like that. Her voice sounding so sure that he loved her in return Cameron had almost forgotten that he had yet to say the words himself. The moment they parted for a breath he whispered them against her lips and the smile he got in return was dazzling, “I know,” she said, her nose nuzzling his softly. At some point her hands had wondered to his chest and he could feel the idle circles they began to trace against his skin. Her touch fanning the flame inside him that she'd created. 

His eyes seemed to be trying to take all of her in at once, trying to commit every detail to memory, “Stay? I know it's not exactly late or anything and I'm not asking for...I just want you here...with me.” Cameron found that his hands were freely wondering across the bare skin of Kirsten's shoulders and he marveled at intimacy. He could touch her now, just like this. She wanted him to. 

“Ok,” she replied and it wasn't long before they made their way onto his bed. And it wasn't until later, after a day of them together, that she told him about how they met as children. A memory that had been haunting her since they'd met again as adults. A puzzle with missing a piece that his mind held and Cameron couldn't shake the feeling that was washing over him, like it was destiny that put her in his arms. Though, it didn't really matter much to him. He'd long been over his close-minded view of things like psychics and fate and the feeling of her lying next to him felt too right to brush aside. With her breathing evened out and her long hair draped over his arm, Cameron stared down at Kirsten's sleeping face and he simply knew she was meant to be there and that he was meant to be hers.


End file.
